Barking in Darkness: Black Dogs

2017, August. Kamal and Yuthika Ahluwalia—siblings—Joshau Graham, and Avni Iyer were walking as a group from afternoon classes, walking along the quiet road beside Ryan Farm Park. No cars, no strangers; the buses were cancelled due to a shortage of drivers, but their homes weren’t far away, for Graham at least. The siblings and Iyer had to find a bus route still functional. A warm Sunday night with no one around may once have been a good time. But it was in those quiet moments before the storm erupted, and the sound of teenagers shouting as a dog leapt from the bushes adjacent. Blistering gaze, jowls slobbering, fur black as the shadows it lunged from. 

While it attacked no one, offering a simple fright, the next day would prove otherwise. The four turned up in the hospital from sudden, overwhelming illness. While they all could have gotten food poisoning or caught the cold, their deadly sickness may just as likely originate from a far less mundane source, as what they crossed paths was none other than a Black Dog. A ‘malevolent’ one, at that. 

Originating from Western European folklore, Black Dogs are a classification of ghost with one significant feature: their black fur, burning eyes, and an association with death. From the half-time malicious Black Shuck to the stalwart Gurt Dog, their personalities vary as their duties. Many tales spin from their nighttime howls, and as colonizers ventured into the Americas, they too brought their spirits. However, why is this? Why are dogs, among most animals, so prevalent in encounters with the supernatural? And why are they so diverse?

To investigate their endings, you must first observe the beginning. About 30 thousand years ago, humans began domesticating grey wolves, and the rest is history. One can explain their connotations with the deceased with that past too, what with scavenging behavior… but it doesn’t explain how they persist too. 

Over time our bonds became like steel, where humanity dwells, so did mutts. In that way, we bred an undying loyalty. But at the same time, we removed a simplicity of being “animal.” Most non-human animals' live life in the moment, with no purpose beyond what their instincts tell them. Eventually they die and—if you believe in ghosts—they don’t linger long. They served their purpose in life, so they move on. Humans find themselves in a complex situation. Always confronted with mortality, yet it’s with our intelligence that recognizes the fact we are on limited time, and should one care, how we leave the world once we’re gone. In that way, if a person is so determined to stay, or has unfinished business, who’s to say they cannot? Ghosts, in many cases, may form from that desire.

On that basis, animals of high intelligence, or feel such necessity to continue, should be able to remain after death. The dog especially. Already they are highly social and intelligent but add its latent loyalty to their masters, no wonder ghost pets are such a common sighting. Loyalty, of course, may not be the only reason they keep going, but purpose also adds onto that.

Like human ghosts, Black Dogs can be malicious or benevolent, but in a point of personal investigation, and potential bias, the statement of “there are no bad dogs” may prove truer. Many cases of Black Dogs in America have proven harmless, choosing to stay in search of a master long since dead. The Gurt Dog is explicitly a protector for the living, as are Church Grims for graveyard dead. But then you have the Black Shuck, who’s almost always depicted as malevolent. Almost. One late-night witness claimed to be guided home as she cycled by the beast. With its many similarities to a guard dog, and the long history this specter had with Christain monasteries, I recall how Church Grims are made...

Buried alive beneath a church’s cornerstone.

I’m not surprised it dug the graves of five churchgoers, for how could it trust anyone that dawns the clothes of its murderers?

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Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!

The Unending Want; the Wendigo

1906, sometime in September, the Fiddlers were broken apart when Wahsakapeequay, or Mrs. Thomas Fiddler, was brought to their doorstep. Officials of Norway House were suspicious to the Fiddlers, but among the local indigenous Suckers, they were a respected bunch for their profession. They were not healers, and what afflicted Wahsakapeequay could not be mended by any medicine. Fear consumed Jack and Joseph Fiddler, Chief Zhauwuno-geezhigo-gaubow and his brother Pesequan respectively, for this was the not the first time they saw someone in this condition. What worse was not the pain Mrs. Fiddler was experiencing... but what she would become once she passed. What would come to inhabit her body, what had tormented her all the way up to their house... 

They slew her, as they had upwards of 30 other similar patients over many years. They were not healers, but they were monster hunters, and specially trained for one of the most dangerous: the Wendigo. 

Perhaps the most well-known of Canada’s malevolent spooks, the Wendigo has found itself in the limelight of popular culture, what with numerous fictional works featuring its gaunt physique and characteristically gluttonous attitude. But to the Algonquin peoples, where this chilling terror originated, it is as real as the threat it poses every day. It is a character to us, but what are Wendigo to those that have to deal with it? Hide from, stave away, and in the worst-case scenario... what is it they have to destroy?

Let’s start with a description, and according to one Ojibwe teacher Basil H. Johnston, it isn’t like many pop culture appearances. It is a spirit, malevolent as they come, and one solely afflicting its curse upon man. The highest chance of possession occurring during the winter months, greed is what invites it most, and once it has taken hold of someone, the person is doomed. Form is hollowed and tightened so their bones are visible through their skin, lips torn and shredded so that their teeth always show, the body white as snow. Like a walking corpse, rising from the grave. When transformation completes, the monster finds insatiable hunger, one it attempts to quench with those they once held close... It cannot satiate this thirst, however, for every human they consume, the hunger grows too, leaving it forever unsatisfied. The body cannot be killed unless the heart, now turned to ice, is melted down.

Despite the efforts of those that take on the spirit, it cannot be destroyed like the person they possessed. And unfortunately, human greed is widely prevalent, especially in times of strife, like during the long winters it so often manifests in. As is, Canadian winters are deadly, and a member of the tribe taking more rations than their share would jeopardize everyone. If not by inviting the cannibal spirit into themself, then by starving everyone, inspiring more disorder that would further summon it.

Because of this threat, many tribes that believe in the Wendigo’s power made certain to enforce the seriousness of its threat. From recollections of the spirits luring the unwitting with voices of those they could trust into the woods to be devoured, to whole ceremonial practices, the lengths people went to prevent Wendigo from coming into being were far and away as manic as the monster itself. No surprise it would lead to the deaths of those believed to be transforming into Wendigo, striking at the monster’s weakest moment.

The narrative implications of Wendigo haven’t been ignored by those who feared it. Like any monster, it reflects the fears of the people, and that worry was spawned by what brought it into our world: Uncontrolled want. Excessive desire. Greed. Today, First Nation populations struggle with unsafe infrastructure; they lack clean drinking water; they face the highest suicide rates, and still they are treated less than human. The Canadian government, despite all the trouble they already caused them, promised to alleviate their issues, but years later, they still suffer. 

The Wendigo is real. It strives to create imbalance, to divide those it once dwelled with. It is willing to endlessly steal just to assuage a hole in their heart that cannot be filled. It decrees sweet nothings to draw in the uneducated and devour them whole when their use is fulfilled. It would’ve been easier to deal with when it wasn’t fully empowered, yet here it is now. 

The Wendigo is real; it wears a suit and tie. It’s eating Canada alive. 

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Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!

A Look at Mothman

On a cold midnight on November 15, 1966, the cold war was still brewing a chill down everyone’s spines; Ronald Reagan was chosen governor of California, Lunar Orbiter 2 was launched into space, and two couples inside one car drove down State Road 62. The lot of them were responsible adults, the duo of men and women with few distractions besides each other. Against a backdrop of pitch-black woodland, they’d be neighboring a long-abandoned weapon testing facility, the TNT Dome. They might have been talking about recent sports, town gossip, whose house they were deciding to park at, but not much of anything would compare to when the driver and owner of the vehicle, Roger Scarberry, slammed the breaks to a pair of red eyes shining in the headlights. 

Thus, Point Pleasant got its own resident horror that would take the world by storm. 

West Virginia is not absent of its monsters, ranging from the silly Vegetable-Man to the sole dragon of North America, the Snallygaster, and lest we forget the headless Grafton Monster... but this newcomer, making their start in the small town on the far west end of Mason county, stood by and large the tallest, casting its shadow over all of West Virginia. Not only that, but it also took cryptozoology by the throat, effectively standing toe-to-toe with Bigfoot and Nessie. But the Loch Ness monster had a 33-year head start; Sasquatch in 1811. What makes Mothman so popular in the eyes of Americans despite the lateness?

Well, besides being allegedly named after one of Batman’s rogues by an anonymous reporter, and lying in the middle ground of tangible and fantastical, it took on a far more real form than most things lurking in the shadows. Unlike most monsters in North America, Mothman demanded attention. 

Since their first appearance, locals of Point Pleasant fell into hysterics, pointing fingers at every dark and dreary bird minding its own business, or any indistinct object drawing attention with its appearance. The town was caught in moth-mania, with upwards of a hundred people making reports on the skyward fiend, averaging about one report every four days for the next year or so. Many proposed sightings, however, came from children’s books, or eye-witness accounts without names attached. Regardless, these accounts ranged from mere sightings of it passing by, to the extreme, attacking teenagers in their cars. All eventually culminating in Mothman’s most infamous appearance, where not once was the monster actually seen.

Silver Bridge, December 15, 1967, exactly 13 months after the original sighting, the connecting bridge of West Virgina and Ohio collapsed, taking 46 with it. 13, as a number, holds major significance to cultures around the world, and in this instance, would’ve fallen into the category of “bad luck.” Though the tragedy was brought on by a defective link in the bridge's construction, leading to its collapse, it did not stop some people from making connections.

One John Keel, author of The Mothman Prophecies, would be responsible for the theory that Mothman was, in fact, an omen of disaster, foretelling great tragedies of humanity... Alongside also labelling it as an alien and connected to government cover-ups. The man was a ufologist foremost. But with a new mythos constructed around the monster, what once was just a terror of West Virginia now took roost in branches all over America.

Mothman is a household name, and today, despite never being seen again after its painful crescendo nearly 60 years ago, cryptid-hunters, sightseers, and the average horror-enthusiast still find themselves intrigued with this... thing. Books, movies, documentaries, TV shows, and games feature its near-featureless mug, it’s the subject of creatives looking to take new spins on the original idea, but above all, it has no bigger fan than Point Pleasant itself. With its alleged home becoming a tourist attraction, a statue made in its likeness, and a whole museum built to preserve its legacy, tribute has been given to the monster. 

Why do people like Mothman? It isn’t everyday a small town has its own resident monster, but Mothman stands out. It wasn’t a one-time sighting in the fog, or two, it was a year of terror that followed everyone, and left its scars deep, culminating in tragedy it can never be separated from. Unlike other monsters of America, it wanted to be known.

SOURCES

“Couples See Man-Sized Bird ... Creature ... Something.” Point Pleasant Register, 16 Nov. 1966, https://www.unionleader.com/news/back_page/couples-see-man-sized-bird-creature-something-55th-anniversary-of-mothmans-appearance/article_29d2777a-b499-53cd-b0ad-318b1fd955df.html. Accessed 25 Dec. 2021.

Keel, John A. The Mothman Prophecies. Tor, 2013.

Mallow, Gwen. “An Ode to a Hometown Creature: Mothman of Point Pleasant, West Virginia.” Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, 7 June 2021, folklife.si.edu/magazine/mothman-point-pleasant-west-virginia.

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Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!